Sheik: A Transformation
by Voltierre
Summary: Transferring to a new school is always hard. It's even harder when you're different. A/U, vulgar language, Sheikcentric.
1. Chapter 1

A/N and Warnings: This is obviously Alternate Universe, and the school system is Canadian because that's where I live and that's the school system I am most comfortable writing about. Homophobia and transphobia abound in this first chapter. And just for your information, some of the ignorant comments made in this story are based on first hand experience, some on second hand stories, and other I've read about. **This story is about a transgendered person. If you do not wish to read about this issue, please kindly leave now. **This story is rated T for vulgar language.

Disclaimer: I don't own anything to do with the Legend of Zelda franchise, this story is a work of fiction created by a fan.

* * *

><p>Sitting with head down, trying not to make eye contact, I avoided answering the question. I didn't want my old name said aloud any more, but try as I might, the teachers still inevitably slipped – especially my crabby old math teacher. My pen scratched against paper, leaving indents but without leaving inky trails behind having been out of ink for at least a half an hour. Face hot with a burning desire <em>not<em> to be called on, I visibly flinched when Mr. Steinfeld said my old name. _Again._

"_Zelda,_" he all but hissed, wrinkled fingers clutching the whiteboard marker like it was going to flee his grasp at any moment, "Could you tell the class what the answer to number five is?" Waving that stupid marker like it was a conductors wand, he gestured as he spoke. It had never annoyed me more than in that moment.

I swallowed loudly, frustration boiling up and over the surface. "Sheik," I muttered, hands clenched so tightly in my lap that my ragged fingernails split the skin of my palms. My breath was ragged, adrenaline pushing me forward, keeping me from collapsing in a miserable heap of worthlessness in front of every one.

"Sorry? You'll have to speak louder." Mr. Steinfeld's voice was grating on my nerves, making the hair on my arms stand at attention.

Standing so abruptly my chair wedged itself between the backs of my knees and the desk behind me, nearly knocking _that_ over too, I stood for a moment, breathing heavily. The world was spinning, and everything I was hearing was reduced to a dull roar as blood pounded in my ears. "Sheik." No hesitation, no mumbling, just a strong voice. I was _sick_ of this. I got _enough_ of this from the _students_. I _didn't_ need it from him, too! "My name is _Sheik_." I said it slowly, enunciating very precisely how to say my name.

Glaring back at me, Mr. Steinfeld silently dared me to say anything else, to push him further. I knew then that he got my point, but he didn't much care. He was never going to relent.

Yanking my chair out from under the lip of the desk behind me, I sat down so hard I heard the plastic crack under me. "And the _answer,"_ I added, knowing the bell was going to ring any second now, "Is forty-eight and six."

His face paled and I expected those feeble-looking fingers to break the whiteboard marker in two. That's when the tell-tale high-pitched tone echoed through the halls, signalling the end of class. Kids quickly got up, not wanting to stay and get caught in the crossfire between Mr. Steinfeld and I.

"Homework is due tomorrow," he growled, just before the first fleeing teenager made it to the door, his eyes never leaving my face. "And _you_. You have a lunch date with the principal."

Sweeping my notes into my bag, I shrugged – if he wanted to punish me for standing up for myself, so be it. I was _done_ with all this bull. Not waiting for anything else he was going to say, I left one hell for another.

Walking self-consciously, I hunched my back and tried to make myself as inconspicuous as possible in the crowd, hoping to any higher power that may have been such a douche as to create a world as hate-filled as this one that I would just get to my next class unharmed for once. There was only one more class before lunch anyway, so if I could just make it through _that_, I'd be free to eat lunch in the safety of the principal's office. However, the powers-that-be dictated that I wasn't going to make it to class in one piece that day.

Passing a nook in the wall as I was jostled and jolted in the busy, narrow halls, I caught out of the corner of my eye the one person I didn't want to see. I'd dated a kid the year before, when I still wasn't sure about myself, when I was experimenting with a new name and coming to terms with the fact that I wasn't the perfect little _princess_ my parents had always wanted. Since the beginning of school this year, he'd gone out of his way to make my life a living _hell_, always saying homophobic, transphobic, and downright intolerant _bullshit_ every time we saw each other. Always outing me when I didn't want to be outed, especially in the halls between classes.

I just wanted to be _normal_, to fit in – like any other teenager yearned for. I wanted to be accepted, to belong, but Fredrick was going to see to it that I was _never_ going to have that.

Our eyes met and I groaned, slumping and working extra hard to wriggle my way through the crowd. Flinching as the first insult flew, piercing the babble like lightning, I tried to ignore that goddamned name my parents had given me. Why couldn't they have gone with a more _neutral_ name? Like ... Jesse. I would have been fine with Jesse. Or even Sam. Something other than _Zelda_.

Again, my old name, louder and more insistent – he was following me. Great. The third time he called _that_ name, this time just about stepping on my heels he was so close, I stopped and spun, hoping to smack him with my elbow or shoulder or another equally hard and painful appendage. No such luck.

"Finally she listens! What, you're such a stupid _dyke_ that you don't even know your own name now?" He was about my height, broad-shouldered and nothing but muscle – scratch that, the brain is a muscle, right? When I didn't bother giving him any kind of reaction, he mock-pouted, getting in my face, touching my shoulder as he cooed, "Aw, little baby girl gonna cry?"

Shrugging of his hand, I crossed my arms, using the two or three centimetres I had over him to loom as I straightened my posture – and hating the way my chest seemed to fucking _inflate_ as I did so. "You _wish_," I retorted, sarcasm dripping from my words"I bet that'd make you feel like a _real man_, huh?" Not my wittiest reply, nor the smartest, but it got him to shut up for a moment, gaping like a fish out of water.

Turning on my heel and forcing myself back into the crowd, I left him there. I heard him start after me, but he didn't follow. Instead, he yelled over the crowd at me, "If I ever see you again, I'll fucking _kill_ you, you stupid _whore_!"

If this was how the day started, the rest of it was going to be easy.

Right?

* * *

><p>Wrong.<p>

The next period was Social Studies, and while the teacher didn't call on me, people were still whispering about me when we got to work on our group assignments. And I knew because they were being passive-aggressive little assholes and not bothering to keep their voices down. I tried my best to ignore them, but every so often I caught snippets of them talking about '_Zelda being a fucking lesbo_' or '_She's such a dyke'_ ... And while I probably would have brushed it off any other time, today it just made me want to hit something. Or someone. In that pretty little face of theirs.

Finally, unable to concentrate on what the hell my _own_ group was doing, I apologized to them and approached the teacher. She was my only female teacher this semester – and also the nicest, as far as respecting me went. I quietly told her that the girls behind me were being insulting and asked if I could make a quick announcement. Sure, I was nervous, but these guys needed to hear it from me, not second hand – and sure, I'd had the teachers explain to my classmates what I was doing and they were told to respect me at the beginning of the school year, but it hadn't had an effect so far. It was time to do something myself about it.

Mrs. White got the class's attention while I stood at the front of the chaos, tables having been pulled together to do group work, feeling like a total dork and very, _very_ nervous about having all the attention on me. But I kept telling myself that this _had_ to be done. The whispering and the rude remarks had to _stop_. Not just for me, but for any other kid who was going through anything even as remotely difficult as me.

"Uh," I began, twisting my hands in front of me. My over-sized sweater suddenly felt like it was swallowing me. "Hi. I, uh, know you guys ... Some of you, I mean, kind of, well ... Knew me last year as Zelda." I almost winced, having to say that name myself, but plugged on. "And, uhm ... I'm not really old enough yet, but, uh, I wanted to, you know, uh, change it. So, Yeah. I know the teacher said it, you know, a couple months ago -" God, had it really been that long? "- but I would, um, really appreciate it if you, well ... If you could just ... Stop using that name." My voice was getting stronger now. Seeing the rolling eyes and the snickering behind hands was making me feel confrontational again. "When I do change my, uh, name, it's going to be Sheik, so, well ... Use that one. Not ... The _other_ one."

There was a snort from one of the girls in the corner. One of the ones who'd been calling me a lesbian. Shoving my hands in my pockets, I spoke almost directly to her next, knowing that if I did that, I could ignore the rest of the class and get on with it. "Also, I just wanted to say that I'm _not_ a lesbian. I'm _not_ just really butch, and I _don't _like girls. So, you know, _grow the fuck up_."

Mrs. White stood up then, frowning. As awesome as she was, she still didn't like swearing, and it had just slipped out. But I pressed on, turning my gaze to another in that girl's group. "Another thing that you got wrong is that for me to be a _lesbian_, I'd have to be a _girl_. So you know what you _should_ be calling me? I mean, if you want to be, uh ... Less than politically correct, I guess, is a _faggot_. Because guess what? I'm _gay!_ G, A, Y. A guy who likes to suck _cock_." This one elicited a reaction, people turning to one another, eyes wide, eyebrows shooting up and disappearing into hair. Shock, mostly.

Not standing for any more of this, Mrs. White snapped, "That's enough! Sit down, Sheik. Everyone, back to work!" For a moment, I thought that she was silencing me, and I met her eyes with a furious look. The one she gave me in return was far from what I'd expected – she was fighting a smile, and gave me a little nod. "Sheik," she said, guiding me back towards my desk – where my group was looking at me with flabbergasted faces – "Maybe we can talk over lunch?"

"Sure!" I started to say, but then I remembered about my detention. "Er, wait. Mr. Steinfeld gave me detention at lunch with the principal." As I plopped down in my seat, Mrs. White sighed.

"I guess I'll just have to phone the principal and tell her you'll be late." With a wink, she returned to her own desk, and for a few seconds, I stared at her. Mrs. White really was a good person, at least.

When I turned back to my group, the looks they gave me told me that we weren't going to get much work done. One girl, Tina, leaned forward and sort of whispered to me, without waiting for me to even ask about getting back to our project, "So, like, do you have a ... _Penis_?" Tina had never been my favourite in the group. She was always saying insensitive things and calling me a 'she' when she thought I wasn't listening.

Cale, short for Caleb, smacked his head on the desk, stifling laughter as he doubled over. And the quiet kid who always tried to pipe up and failed when the three of us got really into discussing our ideas and I still couldn't remember his name, just blushed when I looked at him. Tina wasn't serious, was she? But she pressed on, repeating her question and whispering even quieter, glancing around the room as if afraid others might hear what she was asking – but that was already too late.

"What?" I said, incredulous. "No," I whispered back, frowning and wanting to add, _I wish_. "I haven't even started doing any of that!"

Finished with his giggling, Cale tuned in and asked, "Started doing any of what? Is there, like, an instruction manual or something you have to follow?"

This time, I wanted to push his head back down into the table until he bled. Were all these kids so stupid?

"No!" I repeated, a little louder than I'd intended. "No, it's not like that. I mean ... Well, there's some things I have to do in a certain order, but, no. There's no _instruction manual_. I have to, like, get ... _things_ taken away ... And there's hormones ..." The blank stares I was getting from Caleb and Tina told me that I wasn't going to get through to them any time soon. But the interested glimmer I saw in the quiet kid's face had me hopeful. Maybe not all the kids in this school were buffoons.

Right when I opened my mouth to insist we get back on track, something small, pointy, and lightweight jabbed me in the neck. Someone had thrown a not at me. The note had been folded in a way as the resemble a very tiny envelope, and either the letter Z or a very spiky and backwards S had been scrawled on it. As I struggled to open it without tearing it in two, I glimpsed the hot-pink ink inside, frowning. Only one person in the class had a hot-pink pen, and she'd gotten in trouble for using it on assignments so often that I would have had to have slept through every Social Studies class to not know who wrote the note.

Once it was open, I glanced over it, having to tilt the paper to see it properly. It read:

_ur such a lozer & fake ur not a boy u have boobs ur a girl_

Crumpling the note in anger, I tried to just ignore the gaggle of giggling girls in the corner. Normally, I wasn't all that aware of when I was a victim of bullying, since it had been subtle stuff my whole life, being raised and forced into socializing with girls who liked to be emotional bullies. Spreading lies behind someone's back, stealing friends and boyfriends, stealing notes from an open bag, hiding things, destroying self-esteem – the underhanded kind of stuff.

I wasn't used to being laughed at while I was still in the room. I couldn't handle this. The longer I was out, the worse it got. Even though it had only been since September that I'd come out, it felt hopeless. For a few weeks, I'd been contemplating asking my parents to move – but I still felt like somehow, it would be letting these idiots _win_.

* * *

><p>Slamming the door, I flung my backpack on the ground in rage. My things toppled out, but I didn't care. My mother poked her head around the corner as I kicked my notebook into the wall before yanking my shoes off.<p>

"Honey?" she ventured, drying her hands.

"What?" I snapped, scooping up the spilled contents of my backpack to take to my room so she wouldn't bitch at me for _that_ too. Not meeting her eyes, I grit my teeth, relishing the way they felt close to breaking.

"I got a call today."

_Great_. I braced for the talk I felt coming. "I know."

"Maybe you should go put your stuff away first. Meet me in the living room?" She looked anxious, concerned, but she wouldn't touch me. She hadn't touched me since I'd told her, and I hadn't gotten a hug from my own mother since August, when I insisted they call me Sheik and asked if I could go to school as a boy in the new semester.

"Whatever," I muttered, stomping down the hall to dump my armful of school stuff on my floor. Discarding my jacket as an afterthought, I tried not to stomp my way back to the living room.

My father was siting with my mother, his hand touching her knee. That's when I knew that shit was probably going to hit the fan – he never did that unless he was upset. And he did look pretty upset.

Crossing my knees and arms as I sat on the loveseat opposite my parents, I waited. I wasn't going to start the conversation, not this time. Finally, my mother broke the silence, trying to smile and be optimistic.

"So, how was your day?" Her hands were twisted around the towel she'd brought with her. Always absentminded, she did that often, taking this from other places and just holding them until she noticed that her toothbrush didn't belong in the kitchen or a saucepan on the porch.

"Awful," I grunted. When my father raised his eyebrows, I sighed and slumped forward. "Mr. Steinfeld gave me detention, but you probably already know that." Damn them for making me start this! They always did that, suckering me into continuing a conversation.

"We do," said my father. His tone clearly said that he wasn't impressed.

Well, I wasn't impressed either – at this intervention-esque setting and at the conversation in the first place, so what if I got in trouble? What kid doesn't?

"You got into a fight with a teacher today?" My mother's voice squeaked, horrified at even the thought of her precious little _princess _getting into fisticuffs.

"No. I _corrected_ him. _He_ was the one to make a big deal of it." I made sure that they knew what I meant, placing emphasis on correction. This happened on a regular basis, they should expect by now that I was getting defensive about personal pronouns and my name.

My parents shared a look, my mother shaking her head a little bit. Then my father spoke again. "You can't just keep pushing people like this." He tried to make eye contact but I quickly stared down at his collared shirt and the pretty buttons on it. "They can't just change because you _want_ them too! It takes some ... Time, getting used to the idea."

I had to take deep breaths from screaming at them. We'd been through this a million times before. There was nothing to get used to! If it helped, they should just forget Zelda ever even existed! I was Sheik, I had always _been_ Sheik, and I would always _be_ Sheik! But I kept my mouth shut this time. It always ended up with my parents crying and me crying and none of us budging on our opinions, just frustrated and angry at each other. And crying. I hated the crying.

He started on his usual rant of how people can't just switch from thinking of a person as a girl to thinking of them as a boy, that it was hard for people – not just me. Always blaming _me_ for this, as if I _chose_ to be this way. As if I was choosing to go through all this shit just for fun!

Finally, I interrupted him. "I want to transfer." It was the first thing that came to mind that might shut him up. And shut him up it did.

"What?" asked my mother. "Transfer? But you just started ..."

I swallowed, steeling my resolve. "I need a fresh start. I'm ... Being bullied." That's when I told them all about my day. They didn't believe me about Fredrick's death threat – or the ones he'd made before – but they did believe me about those stupid girls in my class. After I showed them the note I'd shoved in my pocket. I told them about my lunch date with the principal, how she'd blatantly told me that what I was doing was wrong, and about how in P.E. I had been barred from entering the washrooms to change – again – and forced to go into the _girls'_ change room. Everything just spilled out.

And at the end of it all, despite their hesitation, they did agree that maybe a fresh start was what I needed.

And so, less than a week later, I was starting anew at Nayru Secondary School.


	2. Chapter 2

"You're Sheik, right?"

I nodded shyly, forcing myself to not look away like I might have at my old school, I wanted to try being more confident, but it sure wasn't working out how I planned. His eyes were the most gorgeous blue I had ever seen – my eye colour paled in comparison to his sparkling cerulean irises. I wasn't sure what this boy wanted, but I knew I wanted him. All day, I'd stared at him from my seat at the back of the class, surprised that we shared the same room all morning on Wednesdays when most of the other kids shuffled off into other classes for second period, and all day I wasn't able to concentrate because of him.

And now he was talking to me.

"You started here on Monday, right?"

Was this twenty questions? Again I nodded, staying silent – I didn't quite trust myself to speak yet, even with practice I still had a higher-pitched voice then most guys my age. It didn't help that this boy was making me feel awkward by paying attention to me on my third day at my new school.

"Lets eat lunch together. Come on."

Another nod, and in a daze I followed him. He led me all the way across the school. Energetic but not much of a talker, he led me all the way across the school, weaving expertly through the crowds – leaving me behind to be jostled about – to the cafeteria. I had packed a lunch, so I wasn't going to buy anything, but the boy got in line anyway, scanning the room for me when I finally caught up to him. Grinning widely, he took my wrist and pulled me along to the counter, where there was a hungry pack of students, each trying to push up to the front to place their order.

I tried to pull away, but the boy held fast to my wrist and pulled me all the way to the front, where he grabbed the counter with his free hand before turning back to me. "My treat, what do you want?"

Stunned, I just stared at him. Was he serious? He was going to buy me something?

"I have a lunch," I said, trying to push my voice down a bit and succeeding only in whispering instead.

"I see."

I felt a little disappointed when he turned back to the counter then, and put in an order for his lunch. All the while, he held onto my wrist as I was pushed from side to side, so that I wouldn't get muscled out of the line. My hands were sweating, and it felt like his icy hands were full of electricity where they touched my skin. For a few brief seconds, I was lost to imagining what it might feel like if those strangely-electric hands were to touch my face, just before leaning in and-

He pulled me out of the crowd and out of my daydream, and I couldn't help blushing. Had I really just imagined all that with a boy I didn't even really know? That was a new experience for me. Once we were out of the jostling crowd he let go of my wrist to better juggle the pile of food he'd bought, motioning for me to follow him once more.

Confused, I followed him out of the cafeteria. Were we not going to eat in there? Maybe he had a secret spot, where the two of us would be alone ... And he could get to know me better... As the new student, of course.

The blond haired blue eyed boy led me down a hall just off the cafeteria, to an open door next to the bathrooms, where I could hear some people talking and laughing inside. I hesitated in the doorway, not sure if I was allowed inside since the word _LOUNGE _was stamped on it, albeit a little old-looking and crossed out several times with a pen. When I didn't immediately follow him, the boy popped back out, both hands now free, and rolled his eyes at me.

"Come on, we won't bite."

Someone inside giggled and chimed in, "Well, not very _hard_ anyway."

That made me smile and I followed him inside, surprised to see that this supposed lounge was really just a tiny art studio and storage room. It was bigger than I had expected though, almost two floors tall, with piles of boxes shoved off and overflowing a shallow closet at one end, easels and locked cabinets beside that, and a few desks strewn about. There were two smallish couches against the wall by the door that were reminiscent of a lounge though, and they were occupied by a strange bunch of kids, laying on each other and eating their lunches.

One girl, who had vibrantly blue hair and body glitter all over her face, stood up and just about tackled the boy I'd followed here. "Link," she whined jokingly, "Where have you been all week? No one here gets anything done without you!"

So his name was Link. _Interesting._

The girl turned her attention to me and gave me a once over, which had me fidgeting nervously. Would she see what I was trying to hide? Would she see what I didn't have?

"Who's this cute little creature?" She let go of Link's neck to stand with her hands on her hips. "I'm Navi!"

"Sheik," I replied, nodding and hoping she wasn't the hugging type. I was starting to feel really paranoid having to worry about this stuff ...

Navi stared at me for a moment longer while Link shooed some people over on the couch, settling down halfway in someone else's lap. "Say 'Link' for me."

"Link?" What was she doing?

Turning to Link, she demanded, "Link, say 'Sheik.'"

Shaking his head with a smile, Link swallowed down the juice he'd just started to drink and repeated Navi. "Sheik. Navi, what are you doing?"

Turning her attention back at me, the blue-haired girl grinned. "Yup! A perfect couple!"

My heart nearly stopped. What did she mean? I probably looked horrified, because Navi's eyes widened and Link nearly choked on another sip of juice.

"Oh, wait! I probably should have asked first. Are you gay?"

"Navi!" A boy who looked similar to Link – they probably could pass off as twins if they really tried – but dressed very stereotypically emo, piped up then. "You can't just go around asking people that!"

"Why not?"

Link shook his head, but I could see that he was curious about me now by the somewhat expectant face he wore. And maybe that wasn't a bad thing, but I was too freaked out still to care and got defensive.

"I am," I said, before any fights could break out between these guys. "I'm gay. So what?" I wanted nothing more than to run away and hide, forget about this whole thing and go back to being the loner guy – but at the same time, it felt so _good_ to tell people that. And judging by the looks on their faces, they didn't doubt me – which felt even better.

"I knew it!" Navi pointed dramatically at me, making light of the situation, but everyone else seemed tense. "You are _definitely _too cute to be straight."

Still feeling like I had something to defend, I swept my gaze around the room, daring any of them to insult me. I didn't dare look at Link's face just yet, I was afraid that he'd be disgusted by me. I hated that everyone's attention was on me, but I couldn't back down now.

Finally, the green-haired girl sitting in the emo-Link's lap asked, "You know where you are, right?" When I gave her a puzzled look, she sighed and pointed to a poster on the back of the door.

"Oh." Well, I felt ridiculous. The poster was a bright, florescent and flamboyant rainbow with GSA painted boldly on it. There was even a little frowning face in the corner with the caption _0 tolerance for hate!_

The quiet girl sitting on the arm of the couch that Link had wedged into who hadn't said anything yet, started to giggle, and soon everyone was back to normal, picking up their conversations where they'd left off before I'd come in. I stood there, feeling embarrassed. Before I could turn and flee to my locker, where I'd eaten lunch all by myself the last two days, Navi grabbed my arm and sat me on a free desk next to Link.

"Hey," she whispered, almost as if sharing a secret, "Don't worry about it. Shit happens." With a giggle, Navi stepped back and offered me her hand. "Time for a proper introduction! Hi, my name's Navi and I'm a lesbian. It's nice to finally get another gay guy around here. Link's been pretty much the only one in the school since last year!"

I snuck a peek down at Link, a little thrill going through me. Maybe there was hope that Link and I could ...

Navi continued to talk for a bit longer, but I zoned out, nodding periodically as she jabbered on about some other kid who'd changed schools because of some kid with a long name. After a while, she jumped into the conversation that the green-haired girl was having with her snuggle-buddy on the couch, emo-Link, and the girl in a skirt, leaving Link and I sitting in silence.

He touched my knee and I jumped, startled out of yet another daydream. I would have to find a way to stop those.

"Here," he said, offering me what looked like a really tiny burrito. "I got you one."

My face felt like it was on fire. "Thanks," I said, taking it with only the slightest hesitation. It was warm, but not hot, and I sniffed it to see what was in it. It smelt like a burrito too.

Link laughed. "You've never had a taquito before?"

I shook my head, blush deepening. It sounded like a taco-burrito hybrid. Maybe it was just a really tiny burrito with a taco shell? Or a tiny burrito with taco fillings? "No, I've never even heard of them," I finally answered, once he'd gotten his amusement under control – I couldn't help feeling almost like he was laughing at me, even though I knew he wasn't.

"Just try it. They're good." The smile he gave me was enough to make me obey without question, and when he saw my face after my first bite, the smile got bigger. "How is it?"

"It _is_ good!" Because it was so small, the taco-burrito disappeared within seconds. Once it was gone, I fidgeted with my clothes, adjusting my scarf – it was a plaid one of those great big bandana-like ones with a fringe – and pulling at my shirt a little more than self-consciously to make sure it wasn't showing anything it shouldn't. It felt absolutely humungous on me, but at least it wasn't the usual sweater that _drowned_ me in its folds. Link continued to alternate between long glances at me with that strange look on his face and throwing in a word or two into Navi`s conversations.

After a few minutes of awkward fidgeting and inner conflict about what Link was looking at, I pulled out my own lunch, remembering that I still had it when Link was just about finished his own. It felt strange, being in a room full of people that just didn't care what I was doing, but not because they were disgusted by me or because me being me made them feel awkward. The feeling was nice. Maybe I could make these people my friends. And maybe I would join this GSA – something my old school didn't have but I'd heard about.

I had hardly started into my sandwich, while trying to keep pace with Link and Navi when they attempted to integrate me into the conversation, when the bell rang, obnoxiously loud and unnecessarily long. With a sigh, I packed up my hardly-touched lunch, wondering where the hell the last forty-five minutes had gone.

"Where's your next class?" Link waited for me to finish up before standing, looking at me curiously. I could tell he had other questions to ask me ... But those would probably come later. And hopefully they weren't all the wrong kinds of questions.

I was about to answer when I felt a hand on my shoulder, trailing towards my back. Instinctively, I panicked and flinched violently away from the hand, getting a strange look from both Navi, who'd touched me, and Link, whom I'd nearly run into. Both of them were curious, but Navi's had a bit of understanding in it, making it worse. Had she felt my too-tight sport's bra?

_Oh god, what if you could see it anyway under my shirt?_

"I gotta go," I sputtered, racing away from both of them. All I could focus on was the looks they were giving me and if they _knew_.


	3. Chapter 3

Every time I closed my eyes, all I saw was that _face_. How could she have known already? I stared at myself in the mirror, toothbrush hanging from my mouth, heart beating in my throat. I couldn't chicken out today, not after I went through the trouble of transferring. Not after I'd run away the first time ...

Spitting out my toothbrush, I rinsed my mouth and washed my face. This was something I had to face. If she knew, well ... I would deal with that if it came to it. Hopefully, she would be the kind of person to leave well enough alone ...

Putting on a brave face with one last look in the mirror, I hurried downstairs to face the day.

* * *

><p>For some reason, I had expected ... More. More stares. More name-calling. More pushing and shoving and insults. But none of that happened. I got to my first class unharmed. It was as if I were in some kind of bad dream, knowing something bad was going to happen sometime soon but not knowing what or when exactly it would happen.<p>

_Impending doom_, I think it was what it's called.

Lunch rolled around and I mustered up my courage to go into the boy's bathroom, escaping the classroom before Link could come and talk with me. I spent my lunch hour locked in a stall, eating the food my mother had prepared for me. When the bell rang, I waited for the bathroom to clear before booking it to my next class, which I made it to just as unharmed as the first two.

Unfortunately, the rest of the day didn't go so well. As I was packing up my things at the end of the day, one of the guys I'd been rather intimidated by approached me. He was taller than anyone else in the class, and much more muscle-bound. He kept his red hair combed back, and he was sporting the start of a beard – which only served to make him look all the more intimidating.

Leaning on my desk, he sat on the notebook I'd been about to put away. I didn't let him know it bothered me, knowing full well that he was probably going to make a crack at me – I'd seen the way he treated his so-called 'friends,' and it wasn't nice.

"Hey, new kid. You got a name?" His voice was gruff, commanding. I couldn't help but look up at him, meeting those frightening eyes. They seemed to glow gold, but I knew they were hazel – people didn't have gold irises, after all.

"Sheik," I answered, heart pumping wildly. What did he want with me? I hadn't done anything to warrant his attention ... had I? "And you are?"

He whistled, turning to laugh with the friends of his that had circled my desk. "Hear that? He doesn't know my name!" Beside the five of them, I was a pebble, insignificant. But still he leaned forward, eyes capturing my gaze. "How's this, I'll tell you my name _once_. If you forget it, I'll give you a ..." He cocked his head and there was a loud popping noise, "_Friendly warning_."

The guys around my desk jostled one another, smiling and laughing amongst each other. This wasn't good. I'd already gotten on the bad side of the school bully. "Sounds fair," I squeaked, hoping my burning face wasn't giving away how scared I was just then. I couldn't afford to get into any fights.

"My friends call me Ganon, but you can call me _Ganondorf_. Got it?" He stood then, putting his hand on my shoulder – and on instinct, I shied away. He didn't like that. "Oh, tough guy thinks he's above letting me touch him!" Raising his hands in mock defensiveness, Ganondorf backed away with a crooked grin. "Looks like we got ourselves a new bad-ass in town. Tell you what, _bad-ass_, why don't we settle this tomorrow, before school. See who's the biggest bad ass in the school, huh?"

"I don't want to fight you." My ears were roaring. This couldn't be happening.

My words fell on deaf ears as Ganondorf and his friends started to roughhouse with each other, laughing raucously, ignoring me. They left me alone in the room to finish packing my things, panic and fear squeezing my chest. I couldn't fight him, I couldn't get into trouble – my parents would transfer me back into my old school if I so much as let my grades slip even a little, a fight would put me back into that hellhole so fast ...

No. I would just have to avoid Ganondorf from now on.

Thinking that I was home free after that awful encounter with my new enemy, I dawdled with putting my stuff in my bag. I didn't look where I was going, glancing up when I neared my locker to see Link waiting for me there. My heart nearly stopped. I couldn't deal with him too!

"Hey, Sheik!" Link called my name before I had a chance to turn around and bugger off.

Damn! "Oh. Hello." Why did I always sound so lame?

"We didn't see you at lunch." Link leaned against the lockers as I approached. The way he looked at me was too intense, and I felt myself become flustered.

"Sorry," was all I could come up with as I pulled open the locker I called my own. It was still neatly organized, since I'd just moved in, but I knew within the last months of classes it would most definitely become a disaster. Pretending to focus all my attention on getting what I needed from the small space, I hid my embarrassed face from Link as best as I could with him trying to peek over the door.

"So, I was thinking that maybe we could hang out-"

"I gotta go." I slammed my locker shut and turned to catch my bus, but Link grabbed my bag before I could escape, stopping me.

"Is something wrong? Did I piss you off or something?"

Without turning to face him, I readjusted my bag and shook my head. It took a moment for me to work up the courage to glance over my shoulder to see the frustration and hurt on Link's face and it almost made me lose my nerve. _Almost._ "It's ... Not that." I couldn't hold his gaze very long, turning my head to stare at the wall beside me. "I'm just not used to this, to having friends that just ... _Accept_ me." The burning feeling returned to my face and I fled.

My stomach felt heavy with regret. Maybe I shouldn't have said anything. If he didn't know before, I was sure he knew now. It physically pained me to even entertain the idea that he knew. Knew that I wasn't what I should be. That I was a freak of nature.

I didn't deserve to have him as a friend. I wouldn't be able to bear knowing that he _knew_.

The bus ride home was awful. Holding in tears and cursing my very being for simply _existing _made the ride almost intolerable. Once again, I raced up the stairs and locked myself in my room the moment I got home. Dealing with my parents would have to wait.

Crying into my pillow took full priority.

* * *

><p>I woke up to the phone ringing. The bright alarm clock next to my bed shone obnoxiously at me when I rolled over, realizing that I was still wearing my jacket and backpack. It was well past when my family ate dinner, and the sun had already set a long time ago, but the smell of food was strong. Glancing at my door, I saw that the door was unlocked and there was a plate of food on my dresser, waiting for me.<p>

At least my parents weren't completely heartless.

Stripping out of my school clothes and changing into pyjamas, I took the plate back downstairs to heat it up. Unfortunately, my mother was in the kitchen, talking on the phone. But I had to eat, so I decided to endure her company until I was finished eating.

Covering the mouthpiece as I threw the plate in the microwave, she mouthed to me how I was doing. I gave her a so-so hand motion and turned to watch the progress of the potatoes with gravy and vegi-infused macaroni on the plate as it heated.

I tuned back in to her conversation when I heard _that_ name. Were they ever going to get it? I was starting to doubt it.

"She's right here. Yeah. No, no, everything is fine. Yeah, it sounds like she was just being bullied at school. You know how kids are."

I cringed, gritting my teeth. How long would it take before they acknowledged that I wasn't their fucking _daughter_? I was _Sheik_, I had always _been_ Sheik, their _son_. Could they just at least respect me by not talking about me behind my back? Was that so hard to do?

"Oh yeah. She's adjusting fine."

_She_.

"The school is a little far, but the bus comes by to pick her up."

_Her._

"Oh no, it's not that bad. Our daughter did the research and she was the one to decide it was okay."

That was it. "Mother!" I whirled around, eyes clouded with unshed tears and chest aching in anger. Catching her attention, she muttered something about being just a moment before covering the mouth again and asking what was wrong. "I'm not your daughter, I'm your _son_! If you can't fucking _deal_ with that, then I'm done with you! I'm done with _all_ this bullshit!"

Stunned, she looked at me with wide eyes. I knew what was coming. The victim card. I wasn't going to wait for that. Not bothering to grab any of my things – my wallet was already in my pocket – I stomped over to the front door as my mother ended her conversation. Slipping on my shoes and slamming the door, more with frustration than anger, I ran. Again.

I ran until I couldn't any more. Unfamiliar with the area I ended up in, and ignoring the frantic calls from my parents, I followed the streetlights to a playground. Even though it was close to eleven, there were still people out playing on it. Luckily, the swings were free, so I went to them, feeling them call out to me.

For a while, I just swung, pushing the swingset to it's limits and feeling one side pull out of the gravel on the height of my swing. The wind felt great on my face, muscles burning angrily at the workout to distract me. When I had calmed down, I noticed that the swing next to me was occupied too, and with the last person on earth I wanted to see just then.

"Hey," he said when I noticed him. "I didn't think I'd see you here this late."

Playing with the gravel at my feet, I was glad it was dark. "Yeah," my voice was husky and raw, throat screaming for water. "Same to you."

"What brings you?"

Not really wanting to answer, I just shrugged.

Link heaved a sigh, pushing himself off the gravel and letting his momentum carry him forward and back. "Look, Sheik. I know we've only talked once, but ... I'm here for you. Being gay in high school is hell, I definitely know that. I also know that sometimes you just need someone to talk at." Shooting me a meaningful glance, Link pushed his legs out, keeping his swing going. I couldn't help but notice the way the dim light from the street threw him into shadow. It highlighted what muscle you could see on his arms and neck. He looked just ... Perfect like that.

But I knew he would never like a person like me. Never.

"Thanks," I muttered, joining him in swinging once more. We stayed silent for a long time, until his friends – most of them I didn't know – came to bid him farewell. It wasn't long after that he left me too.

By the time I had the presence of mind to answer my phone to my screaming parents, it was close to two in the morning. Tired as all hell I barely listened to their lectures, forced to endure them explaining to the police that their _daughter_ had come home, that _Zelda_ was back and no need to panic when I did finally get picked up and driven home.

Falling asleep purely because of my physical exhaustion, I found myself waking up late and missing my bus. Well. Maybe transferring hadn't been for the best. Not only had I let my bullies win, I was off to the worst start ever.

At least it was Friday again.


	4. Chapter 4

Trigger Warnings: Dysphoria and a bit of self-harm in this chapter.

* * *

><p>Fridays. The last day I had to suffer through classes until I got a chance to go home and be alone for two days before the whole thing started again. It was the only thing I was looking forward to, the weekend. I intended to skip the confrontation with Ganondorf, but luck was not in my favour. Because my schedule was a little wonky – much more so than the simple one I was used to from my old school – the last class on Thursday was the second class on Friday this week. It gave the hulking teen a chance to corner me before lunch.<p>

He and his goons circled my desk like the day before as I tried to flee. Ganondorf pushed me back into my seat with a rough shove to my shoulder, and when I glanced at the teacher I only got a quick glance back. He wouldn't be any help.

"Look who showed up to school," sneered the taller, much more muscular boy. "It's a good thing, too, otherwise he wouldn't get a chance to hear what I have to say."

His friends chuckled, and this time I didn't bother trying to say anything. I just listened as my heart hammered away in my chest. It wasn't like there was anything I could do anyway, the teacher probably saw a lot of his bullying and chose to ignore most of it – much like he was doing when he chose to leave me alone in the classroom with Ganondorf.

"See, I saw you with that _fairy_ yesterday," he spat. "It made me have a change of heart! Isn't that right, guys?" His buddies laughed and jostled one another briefly, and Ganondorf continued once they were quiet again. Leaning in with arms crossed, I could smell his rancid breath as he loudly whispered, "I decided that I'd kick the living shit out of you right _now_ and spare you the wait."

The first pair of hands to grab me startled me into action. My chair fell away as I was dragged backwards, kicking out and catching someone in the shin – I wasn't sure who and I didn't care. One of my free hands reached up and clawed at a face as a second pair of Ganondorf's goon's hands grabbed for my wrists. Ganondorf himself reached for my sweater, the baggy one I defaulted to when I was feeling particularly dysphoric, snagging a handful of fabric as my feet finally found the floor.

Desks were shoved aside as I pushed with all my might backwards, toppling the guy holding me from behind. I heard fabric ripping as the three of us fell, leaving Ganondorf standing there above us with a handful of air.

Letting my body take over from years of roughhousing with the other boys at school, I rolled up and backwards, a rogue shoe catching the douche holding my wrists down square in the nose. He howled in pain and dropped my wrists, but the guy holding me under my arms was harder to detach. His fingers grasped in places I knew were dangerous, and I felt the binding I'd so carefully wrapped that morning loosen.

"_Shit_," I hissed, driving a knee downwards, narrowly missing the guy's face as he finally let me go. I turned to run but found myself faced with a wall with no exit. A heavy hand fell on my shoulder, gripping painfully tight, so I spun around, elbow out, and caught Ganondorf in the ribs.

All four of them were back on their feet and they looked murderous. Ganondorf barely flinched when I stomped on his foot as hard as I could – discovering quite painfully that whatever shoes he was wearing had steel toes.

As they grabbed again for me, I jabbed a hand upward, resorting to that damned training my mother had put me through when I was still living as a girl. I had aimed for his nose, but Ganondorf seemed to know better than that. He shoved me and I went sprawling. My head snapped forward as the back of it collided with a chair on the way down, breath knocked out of me from the shock.

I briefly registered that he was motioning something to his friends as I rolled onto my side, vision dark at the edges and mouth gasping for air it couldn't get. Then he was sitting on my stomach, pinning me at the shoulders. Something crossed his face as I raised my arms meekly, feeling the world spinning and grabbing his pressing hands, scrabbling to find something, anything, that would get him off of me. A finger I could pry at, even.

He waited until I started to cough and the world was back in focus. His eyes narrowed menacingly, his sheer weight holding me in place and bruising my flesh. I could hear the door click closed as the halls started to get noisy with people being let out early for lunch. That noise scared me more than anything. If it was locked, no one would be able to get to me in time if he really was going to kick the shit out of me. I was trapped.

I wanted to beg, scream, plead for him not to hit me, but something in the way he restrained himself made me hesitate. The way his mouth crooked just a little bit, how his nose wrinkled as if he smelled something bad. It wasn't the face of rage and hate I'd seen moments before. Sure, the anger and hate were still there, but there was amusement on top of it all.

"Looks like you get off with a warning," he said, and that's when I noticed that we were alone in the room. Where the hell had his backup gone? Raising a fist, he mock-punched me in the jaw, once. It wasn't even hard enough to sting. "Normally, I don't fight _girls_. But next time you piss me off, I won't hold back."

Then he was standing, looming over me. At that moment, I wanted nothing more than to _cut_ that smug look off his face. That condescending way he was looking at me made me feel sick to my stomach. Why, of all people, did _he_ have to find out! "I'm not a fucking _girl_," I snarled, refusing his hand up. My cheeks burned. Horror and dread filled my whole being, making my ears ring and the world feel ... Fuzzy.

He grabbed my shoulder and leaned close, pressing our cheeks together. When I tried to pull away, his other hand grabbed my waist, holding me in place. "Oh, don't worry. This will be out little _secret_."

Then he was gone, that sickening warmth nothing but a phantom against my skin. He picked up his discarded bag and waved over his shoulder as he yanked open the door. Leaving me in the chaotic aftermath of our scuffle. My face burned with shame, stomach twisted so tight that I felt bile in my throat. A lump in my throat stuck in my throat that felt so big I couldn't suck in enough air. Picking up my own bag, hands shaking so badly I dropped it several times, I didn't see Link at the door until I had nearly run into him.

"Oh god," I groaned, not meaning to say it out loud. I crossed my arms self-consciously, hoping that the binding wasn't loose enough yet to see anything.

"What happened?" Link reached for my shoulder and I flinched away. The hurt that crossed his face was brief, covered quickly with worry. "It was Ganondorf, wasn't it?"

I tried to scoot past, but Link barred the way. "It's nothing." _Lies, _I thought bitterly, desperate. _I need to __get out of here, what lies can I tell him?_

"Look, Ganondorf is a known bully. If you go to the principal, he can do something about it." Again, he reached for my shoulder, but, once more, I dodged it. "Come on. I'll go with you."

"No," I stuttered, tired of playing nice. Shoving my way through the doorway, I felt that dreaded hand on my shoulder. Luckily, I had worn ace bandages for binding instead of too-tight training bras, so there was nothing on my shoulder he shouldn't be feeling. It still felt like he could feel them there, though, and I shrugged off his hand as tears pricked at my eyes. "I have to go to the bathroom," I muttered, weaving into the crush of students.

Link followed me. Insisting I go to a teacher, the principal, _someone_. When I got the bathrooms ... I froze. People shoved me this way and that, but I couldn't make myself move. Whatever Link was saying fell on deaf ears. Blood rushed in my ears as I stared at the two signs.

_Man_ or _woman?_

Wasn't that always the question? By habit, I wanted to go into the women's bathroom, where Link couldn't follow me. But I couldn't. I couldn't let myself do that.

I just didn't feel right about going into the men's, either.

Backing away from the two doors, the two signs, the _choice_ of gendering myself, I turned and took the only option I knew was _safe_. It was a cop-out, and I felt like I'd somehow failed myself as I locked the door behind me. The handicapped bathroom smelled like it hadn't been used in a long time, but I didn't really pay attention. I slumped against the door as my legs gave out. The world felt like it was going to fast, leaving me behind. Disorientation claimed my senses, and I knew I was fainting even before I felt the ground under me.

I came back moments later, Link's voice still talking to me through the door. Insisting.

"I can't," I whispered, crawling towards the toilet to vomit. "I can't."

And it was the truth.

* * *

><p>I winced, feeling the bump on my head. The skin was still super tender, but it was healing. The weekend had come fast, but not fast enough. And even the weekend couldn't make me feel better. Standing in front of the mirror, I stared at myself. Hating myself, scrutinizing every inch of skin. I wanted to avert my eyes, to keep from looking, but I couldn't. It was like looking at a wreck as it happened.<p>

My fingers gripped the counter so tight I felt my bones creaking, but I pushed myself to grip tighter. Trying to distract myself. But it didn't seem to help.

Ganondorf's voice repeated itself over and over in my head. _A girl_. Was that what I was to him? A girl only pretending to be a boy? To Link, too? Saria? My parents?

Myself?

Without thinking, I balled my hands into fists at my side, raised one. Shattered the mirror in front of me. My knuckles burned as sharp shards of glass rained down on my arm, splitting the skin, cutting and slicing. The section I'd broken fell away as I pulled my hand back. Turned on the water, stuck my bleeding hand under the spray. That hurt, too, but I didn't care.

Anything to distract myself, right?

I pulled my shirt back on, smearing blood on the side. Studied the way I looked in the mirror, hating the way my breasts were so ... There. I hated the way my body looked, the way my waist curved. I hated my face, how feminine it was.

There was a knock on my door and it startled me. My mother's worried voice asked if I was alright, and I told her that I'd tripped and broken the mirror by accident. More lies. She tried to insist she come in and see, but I refused. If she really cared, she'd go get the key.

She didn't.

With a sigh, I let my bloody hand drain into the sink. The pain was awful, but it was something to anchor me. And I knew that I hadn't really hurt myself by doing this, it just stung. The cuts on my knuckles were superficial. The little nicks on my hand and wrist were just that, nicks. The slivers of glass still stuck in my skin, too tiny to shake off or brush away, would all come out in due time. The bigger slivers had washed down the drain.

After what felt like an hour, the bleeding slowed, then stopped. Wrapping my knuckles in a cloth, I re-did the binding on my chest and changed into pj's. At least I could sleep away the weekend, sleep away my problems. Sleep and return to a world where I was who I wanted to be, where everyone knew the real me. Where I didn't hate myself and I didn't lie.

I could sleep and be me, at last.


	5. Chapter 5

**A/N: I really am sorry about the choppy updates. This story is honestly a whole lot harder and much more triggering for me to write than I thought it might be.**

* * *

><p>"Honey, we've booked an appointment for you." My mother's face was nothing but concern and worry. I knew her and my father had talked about it before, but ... I hadn't thought they go through with it.<p>

"Oh," was all I could muster. Were they finally going to let me see a psychiatrist? Get me started?

Breakfast after that felt much lighter. Although I still felt hopelessly lost and that horrible feeling of dread, that awful trepidation about confronting Ganondorf on Monday pressing down on me every waking moment, I still had a bit of hope. My mother informed me that they'd booked the appointment with a psychiatrist before I'd transferred and that we were going in as a family on Sunday. Tomorrow.

As much as I looked forward to the meeting, I also felt skeptical about my parents being in the room with me. My mother made it clear that that was going to be how it was, whether I wanted to or not. I just hoped that they would behave themselves and not screw this up for me.

Pushing away the meagre remains of my food, I had just excused myself when my mother noticed my hand. I'd wrapped it in athletic tape when I couldn't find anything else and had been trying to hide the injury with my long sleeves. Clearly, it hadn't worked as well as I'd hoped.

"Did you get that from the mirror?" She asked, horrified. The look on her face wasn't suspicious, even though she'd found out before that I'd tried self-harm when I was dating the asshole that was my ex. That was good.

Quickly coming up with an excuse, I nodded. "Yeah, when I tripped I tried to grab the wall and missed." That sounded plausible at least. "It's taped because it's bruised," I offered when she got up to look at it. Hiding it back in my sleeve, I shied away from her. "Really, it's okay."

She clucked her tongue disapprovingly, but didn't push to see it. "There must be glass everywhere, I'll come help you clean it up today."

"I already got it." A lie, but I didn't want her to see the blood in my sink. I forced a smile. "Thanks anyway."

She sighed and dropped back into her seat, shaking her head. "If you say so." As I left, I heard her mumble, "I just wish you'd trust me more."

I fled before the guilt could get me.

* * *

><p>The waiting was the hard part. I had always been a tad impatient, but I hadn't quite realized how much so until I was forced to sit fidgeting in an unforgiving plastic chair. My father shot me sour looks whenever I brought my hand to my face to chew nervously at the scrapes on my knuckles, but it was hard to resist. Settling instead for my cuticles, I gnawed away at my fingers until my birth name was called.<p>

Shooting up out of my chair, I almost ran ahead of the receptionist in my haste. I needed to see the doctor, I needed this done. I couldn't _wait_ any more, waiting was too hard, too stressful, and too many things could go wrong in the meantime.

The room we were lead to felt less like a doctor's exam room and more like a principal's office. The large wooden desk separated the doctor from the three chairs – leather, slightly reclined, much more comfortable than the ones in the waiting room. The walls were covered in framed degrees and awards, only a single picture of the doctor's family sat on the desk to make it seem personal.

It made me feel uncomfortable, like the warm colours of the wood and the beige paint were covering the shiny, sterile metal underneath. It felt like judgement. I didn't like it at all.

He smiled at me, shook my hand before I sat. Introduced himself to my parents before they too seated themselves. Then his eyes were on me. They too were warm, much too kind. Uncomfortably welcoming.

I swallowed nervously, waiting for the first question, forcing a smile. I played with the edge of the leather, sitting at the edge of my seat and quite at attention. Awkward.

Finally, he asked, "So, what do you want your name to be?"

My heart soared. He wouldn't be dicking around, that was great! "Sheik," I answered, voice husky. That was all I could say, I was too nervous with my parents staring at me like that. I wanted to spill my guts, tell him everything I knew he wanted to hear to give me the diagnoses – my heart sank. That was right, a _diagnoses_. I was nothing more than diseased.

My father shifted forward, clearing his throat and grabbing all our attention – silently, I resented him for that. "My daughter wants to be a boy," he said, making me cringe internally. I screamed mentally at him, hurling the most colourful insults I could think of, head feeling fuzzy with anger. Would he never get it?

"I see," said the doctor, waiting for him to continue when my father paused.

"Well? Can you help her?"

I closed my eyes and took a deep breath to calm myself. Hollering at him would accomplish nothing at this point.

"Maybe this is all just a phase, you know? She's always just been a tomboy, I don't think she's serious."

"Although I appreciate you coming in, I would like to ask my _patient_ some questions first."

If it was possible, my heart sank lower, beating roughly where my intestines were supposed to sit. My father's face coloured as he sat back, crossing his arms with a huff. But it did shut him up and for that I was infinitely more glad than I thought possible.

"Sheik." I turned to face him as he spoke. "Why don't you tell me about this yourself?"

My face flushed. It would be hard to say what I needed with my parents in the room, but I had to. They had to hear it too. "Well," I stuttered, knowing I had to start from the beginning but not sure where that beginning was. "I've been like this since I can remember." I had to feed him what he wanted, but I didn't want to lie. "I've _felt_ like a boy since I can remember." I hated that phrasing. _Felt like a boy_ was such a cop out. No, I didn't _feel_ like a boy, I _was_ a boy.

He nodded, scratching something down on his pad. My palms grew damp. Was I doing it wrong already?

Another deep breath. I had to stay calm, begging him would only hurt my cause. "I mean, I felt more at home playing with the boys than with the girls, and I've never been into girly things." Another cop out. What I liked to do as a kid had no bearing on how I felt, but it was true. "I connected better with the boys. It always kind of hurt when they'd tell me I couldn't do something with them because I wasn't a boy."

His eyebrows raised and I clammed up. More scratching on his pad. I knew my parent's eyes were on me and I could even _feel_ the anger and judgement coming off my father. He always was quick to be a prick.

"So, you like other girls, then?"

_Other_ girls? I just about got up and stormed out then. What the hell was so hard to understand about this? Fuck! "No," I answered, voice shaking. Would my parents understand? I knew that they thought I was being selfish and my mother definitely thought I would 'stay straight' if I was ever able to fully transition. "I'm gay."

If his eyebrows could physically fuse together, I was sure they would. Knitted together, they seemed to be, anyway. "I see," was all he said.

Shit. That was obviously the wrong thing to say.

I felt tears in my eyes. How much longer would this go on? I wasn't sure I could take being interrogated like this for another minute. I had to, though. I needed this. So pushing my emotions away, I forced myself to blink away the wetness in my eyes, not letting a drop spill. That would be too weak.

After writing something down for what felt like ages, he looked up again. "Well," he said, standing. "It's been nice talking with you, but it seems our time is up." He nodded at me, smiling at my parents. "Fifteen minutes never is enough. Why don't you talk to the receptionist about making another appointment?"

Wait, was that it?

Fuck.


	6. Chapter 6

I stared into the shards of my mirror, eyes looking hollow. How would I go on like this? The distress I'd felt the night before was replaced by this empty feeling of nothing – and that was more frightening than the pain and panic.

But it was Monday now, and I had to go face the day. I really didn't have much of a choice, my parents had only booked more appointments with that horrid doctor because I'd promised not to skip any classes or pull another running away stunt. And I'd agreed, like a good little child.

A sigh. I turned my fist over under the dim light in my bathroom. It looked horrible, like I'd stuck it in a meat grinder. The bruises around my knuckles had been made worse by my wrapping, the bandages too tight, too constricting. It felt good to feel that pain when I clenched my hand, to feel the numbness creeping into my fingertips.

My mother called up the stairs, and I started. Right. School.

* * *

><p><p>

The very last person I wanted to see stood at my locker when I finally made it to school. His bulk was turned away from me, so I almost had the chance to get away, but then Link was there too. Fuck. The blond smiled at me, waved, then stopped short when he saw who was at my locker. It caught _his_ attention, and that walking refrigerator turned and grinned at me.

My heart pounded all too loudly in my ears. _No_.

I turned and ran. It wasn't my smartest idea, but I couldn't think of an alternative. I sought shelter in a bathroom around the corner, locking myself in a stall and putting my feet up. Hiding. I was always _hiding_. What the hell was wrong with me?

I waited for a few minutes while blood roared in my ears and the world spun. The first bell rung, and the halls seemed to come to life, the crush of bodies as noisy as a waterfall. For a few gut-wrenching moments, I thought I heard my name being called, but I wasn't sure who was calling me. Link or Ganondorf, it didn't matter. I couldn't do this.

The second bell pealed and the noise died. Inside, I panicked. I had promised not to skip class, my future doctor's appointments depended on my attendance. But I couldn't bring myself to leave, to hustle off like a good student, ignoring my gut.

I just couldn't jeopardize the chance I had to getting a diagnosis. I needed it, I needed to start hormones – I just wanted to be normal!

I gave myself five minutes. Surely, my parents wouldn't get mad about five minutes. I'd say I got sick and had to throw up. That was all it took. Breathing deeply, I finally unlocked the door. I had never been in this particular bathroom, and it felt ... Off. I wasn't sure why, but as I washed my hands and prepared to leave, it hit me.

I'd defaulted into the girl's washroom.

The world spun as I nearly threw myself out. Oh god, had I really done that? It felt like the world was crashing down on me. It didn't help that as I stumbled through the doorway, I ran smack into the big hulking prick I'd fought with on Friday.

He caught me before I could fall on my ass. What a _gentleman._

"Let me go," I snarled, aiming a kick at his shin. I was lashing out, but I didn't care. I needed to leave. I had to get away from here. I wasn't safe with him now that he knew – he would use it against me, I knew that. He was the type.

"Whoa," he said with a chuckle, holding me at arms' length but not releasing my shoulders. The grin on his face was awful. It was knowing. "Calm down, pipsqueak! You'll get us both in trouble."

"Fuck off!" I tore myself from his grasp, his fingers scrambling for purchase as I slid away from him. I felt the fabric give a little, and my eyes swam with tears as I tripped and sat down, hard. This day was starting off _wonderfully _already_._

He offered a hand, eyebrow quirked. When I didn't take it, he hauled my up by the straps of my backpack and dragged me into the boy's washroom. I struggled, but it was a weak effort. If he was going to beat the shit out of me, I deserved it.

"The hell is your problem?" he snarled once we were alone. He shoved me into the counter, standing with his feet planted and arms crossed, blocking my exit. Clearly, he'd done this before. "I'm not here to kick your puny little ass, girl."

Spinning on my heel, I just about decked him. I wanted to. I wanted to scream at him. But I didn't. "I'm not a girl." My voice was a lot more level than I expected it to be, and it took him off guard. Good.

"Your boobs say otherwise."

"Oh, piss off, you bigot."

"Ooh, big words." Ganondorf raised his hands and I flinched, expecting a blow. Quickly, he put them down, frowning. "Look. I'm not going to hurt you. I just wanted to talk today, yeah?"

This was new. Since when did bullies have a heart? "Yeah right," I scoffed. I wanted to fight, fighting was easier.

"Don't be an asshole, just hear me out. I'm keeping your little secret from my friends." He grinned, and my heart sank. He must have seen it on my face, because he leaned in close. "You're pretty smart. I bet you can guess what I've got in mind, yeah?"

"Blackmail," my voice cracked. Oh shit, not this. Not now.

He nodded, placing one hand on either side of me, trapping me against the counter. He got too close, pressing against me. _Oh god, no_! I didn't try to hide my horror as I leaned backwards, trying to escape him. He looked pleased with himself, and I could see he was enjoying my raw fear.

"Close enough." His breath was putrid. "Give me your number."

"No," I turned my head away, voice trembling. One hand slipped around my waist and I felt bile rising in my throat. "Don't touch me." It was a weak protest. I was too scared to even lash out at the touch. This just could _not_ be happening.

"All I'm asking for is your number, but if I have to I'll take a favour from you right _now_ if you'd prefer." His hand slid up my shirt, making my skin crawl. I grabbed his wrist, but I wasn't strong enough to stop him, and we both knew that. Nonetheless, he didn't push any further, our eyes locking. He was dead serious. So was I.

I jerked my knee upward as he shifted, opening himself up to attack. Nothing happened. In fact, he laughed.

"I'm wearing a cup, moron."

His fingers closed around my throat, and I jabbed my palm at his face, aiming for his nose. I missed, getting him in the eye, but his fingers didn't release me. They weren't quite choking me either. He lifted me slightly, pushing me awkwardly against the mirror and pinning my legs between his own as my fingers scratched his own, trying to pry myself free.

"It really isn't that hard," he growled. His free hand groped at my front pockets until he found my phone. With one hand still around my neck, threatening to crush my windpipe every time I so much as twitched, he retrieved it. Flipped it open, played with the buttons for a moment, then folded it up and put it back.

His own phone buzzed in his pocket as he released me, backing off as I doubled over to cough and splutter. The world was spinning, but I felt a sense of relief. Maybe my number really was all he wanted for now – I didn't dare think of what he might do with it. My phone rung moments later, and even without looking I knew it was from _him_.

"Fuck you," I spat hoarsely.

"You'd enjoy that too much, you whore," he threw back, leaving me on the floor. His laugh echoed on the walls, even long after he'd left.

I couldn't bring myself to get up and leave for at least ten minutes. When I did, my phone rung again. Setting it on silent and ignoring the texts, I headed to my first class as if nothing had happened. Inside, I wanted nothing more than to just die.


	7. Chapter 7

Link cornered me at the lunch bell. He caught me right outside my class, something I really hadn't been expecting. His face was both hopeful and worried, and it killed me a little that he still cared.

I couldn't escape now. "Hey," I said with a sigh. It was impossible for me to look at him.

"I was wondering if you wanted to eat lunch with us again." His hand touched my shoulder, and I shrugged it off. Even if he knew, it still made me uncomfortable.

"Sure," I forced myself to sound happy. When I glanced up at him, his face brightened. Why did he care so much?

He took me by the elbow and lead the way through the crowd. He manoeuvred us both easily, avoiding unnecessary bumping-into's. Almost everyone I'd met before was there. There was one missing, but I couldn't remember the people who'd been there in the first place well enough to know who it was. Link steered me into an unoccupied couch, then flung his legs over my lap.

My face warmed in a blush as the conversations lulled, and Navi flashed us a grin. "Long time, no see, cutie." When I murmured an awkward hello, she laughed.

Link pulled out a home-made lunch as Navi assaulted me with questions one after another so quickly I didn't have time to answer them. Or hear them, for that matter.

Finally, she waved her hand and said, "Oh, whatever."

Link elbowed me playfully, half a sandwich in his mouth. "She just missed you," he clarified when I frowned, confused. It was nice to be around them again, it made it easy to forget. "You know, I missed you too. Why didn't you come back?"

I shrugged, fidgeting. A blush rose in my cheeks – _he missed me_? "I dunno," I offered lamely, "Just busy, I guess."

After another silence, Link asked, "Has Ganondorf been bugging you?"

All eyes were on me. I shut down, shook my head. Answered, "No."

The scathing look I was given could have melted steel. "Don't lie, Sheik. I saw him at your locker, and I saw the way you ran. He's been bothering you."

I felt trapped. "It's nothing."

Navi reached out and touched my knee. "Look, he's kind of notorious around here. He likes to bully us gay kids."

"It's because you're all faggots," chirruped a voice at the door. My blood froze in my veins.

"The hell do you want?" The girl with green hair – Sarah? – stood up, hands balled into fists at her side. Navi and the Link-look-alike joined her, blocking him from entering. "You're not welcome."

"Aw," he cooed, pointing to the words _all welcome_ on the GSA sign, "Don't be hypocrites. It won't do you any good."

I wanted to shrink into my seat. Was he going to out me in front of everyone? Link swung his legs off the couch, standing between me and him. It felt like an oddly protective move.

"You're being hateful, so we're not being hypocrites when we tell you to leave." His voice was dripping with venom, every muscle taut. "And I guarantee you that I won't _ask_ again."

"Hey, no need to be so vicious, _fairy-boy_. I just wanted a word with your new faggy friend." He pointed to me. If I could, I would have merged with the floor. Instead, I shrunk deeper into the seat, shaking my head.

Everyone started yelling all at once, hurling insults and getting in each other's faces. Even the Link double got up and threw a few insults.

"-You have no business-"

"-Get out, you filthy-"

"-You're such a cunt-"

"-Disrespecting us-"

"-Disgusting dyke-"

I closed my eyes, trying to block it out. My head started to pound so hard I thought it would split. Ringing filled my ears, loud enough to breifly drown out the world. After a moment, the noise quieted. I tuned back in, opened my eyes. Everyone was staring at me. Had I said something?

"What?" I croaked, afraid of the answer.

"Your nose."

I brushed a hand under my nose to find blood there. What ...?

"You should see a nurse," offered Ganondorf, voice uncharacteristically soft. I could see the gleam in his eyes that told me he wasn't saying it out of the goodness of his heart. There was a sort of meanness about him. He wanted to corner me again.

"Oh, piss off," Link growled at the football player as he knelt in front of me, tilting my head back despite my protest. "Pinch the bridge, I'll take you to the office."

"I'm fine," I insisted, pinching my nose despite. It relieved a bit of the pressure there, at least. He tried to drag me off the couch, but I dug my heels in. "I said I'm fine!"

"Prissy bitch has an attitude."

"Can you _leave?"_ Navi shoved Ganondorf, and he stumbled back a step.

"Fine. Just tell your_ new faggy friend _to check their messages." The door slammed closed behind him, and I wasn't sure if it was him or Navi that did it. Either way, I was glad he was gone.

The tension in the room seemed to melt. Navi and the green-haired girl laughed a bit. Everyone settled back into their seats, even Link. Someone passed me tissues, and I mopped up the mess on my face. For a while, at least, I could just pretend that life was okay. That I was just another bully victim, another casualty of homophobia.

It couldn't last.

* * *

><p><em>Six.<em> He had already sent me six messages. I didn't dare check them during class, but I began regretting waiting until the final break.

[8:34am] _Keep an eye on ur msgs_ – that was the first one. It wasn't too bad.

[8:42am] _U an i shud meet tonit_

[9:10am] _dont u dare ignor me u bitch_

[10:26am]_ ill see u lunch_

[1:32pm] _still not checkng i see_

[2:11pm]_ im driving u home we need 2 tak about this_

Re-reading the last one made me feel ill. I didn't want to face this. Not today – preferably, not _ever_.

But then the teacher called out attention back to the board. Break was over. Stuffing my ancient flip-phone back into my bag, I took a breath and tried to focus on the chicken-scratch. Thirty minutes. If I could make it out that door right at the bell and skip my locker, I could probably make it to the school buses before Ganondorf could find me.

Of course, I didn't quite have the luck I wanted. The bell rang, and I ended up getting stuck in the jam at the door. The hallway looked pretty clear of Ganondorf, so it took me by surprise when I rounded the corner closest to my escape I was grabbed and yanked back the way I'd come by a guy I didn't know. He grinned down at me, and I understood.

One of _his _so-called _friends._ I should have known better.

It was hard to shake his grip, but I managed to do it when he'd dragged me to the front door, ducking under his arm when he tried to make another grab at me. Ganondorf blocked my way out the closest doors, so I spun and shoved my way into the crowd again. I saw a few familiar faces, none-too-happy about my shoving, but I didn't bother asking for help. Who would want to help me anyway?

My phone, no longer on silent, rung. I could guess what the text said already.

I didn't have a chance. More of his so-called _friends_ were waiting on the other side of my next closest exit. They hauled me into the parking lot and shoved me into the front seat of what I assumed to be Ganondorf's beat-up car. It smelled awful, and the locks had all been cut off and pushed down. No escape.

Forced to sit in the tiny car while Ganondorf took his sweet time getting to the car, I checked my phone. I had been right.

[3:03pm] _ur not getting out of this u cant escape_

The simple message sent chills down my spine. Panic seized me when I saw him lumbering over. I smacked my elbow into the glass, only earning me a dull _thump_ and a bruise, the two guarding my door laughing at my attempt. My fingers dug into the hole where the pop-up lock should have been, scraping and cutting my skin up to the first knuckle. No, I wouldn't be able to reach it anyway.

_Mace._ I had mace in my bag. I dug around for it, got the little hand-held canister in my palm and at my side before he could unlock his door. If he so much as tried to touch me, I'd spray him.

He got in, strapped in, started the car. Started to back out. "Buckle up," he said casually. As if he weren't kidnapping me.

I did it anyway. No sense in putting myself in any more danger. When he joined the line-up to get out of the lot, he shot me a sideways look. "What?" I snapped, glaring back at him. I hoped that my panic wasn't showing.

"Where am I taking you?" The side of his mouth twitched. He was enjoying this.

In a moment of fear, I gave him my ex's address. The last thing I needed was for him to know my real address – and besides, I still had the key to the basement door. For a few moments, as he navigated the parking lot, he was silent. As we pulled out, he shot me another look, one that was somewhat thoughtful.

"I know that area pretty well. There's a park near you, yeah?"

I nodded, staring out the window but watching his reflection.

"You got my messages?"

Another nod from me.

He sighed. "I see you're not the talkative type." More silence. "So. You and fairy-boy, huh? Does he know?" He must have seen my reaction, because he chuckled. "He doesn't, does he? Interesting."

"Don't." I panicked again. "Don't tell him."

"That depends entirely on _you_." He turned off the road an exit early, and I knew he meant to take me to the park. "I won't ask much, girlie. Promise."

I started to protest, but cut myself short. There wasn't much I could do at this point. He was right. "What do you want?" My voice was hoarse.

"Patience, yeah?" He pulled into the lot for the park. It was a very forested area, a good place to really hurt someone. A good place to leave a person for dead. Cutting the engine, as he opened his door, he said, "Leave your bag."

I shuddered as he came around to unlock my door for me. Held it open. I followed him down one of the well-worn paths I was familiar with. My ex and I had walked most of the paths before. In fact, the one Ganondorf and I were on now was the one I'd come out to my ex on – and the asshole had laughed in my face.

He led the way to a set of stairs that went to a secluded sitting area just above a small cliff, but he didn't sit when we got there. Instead, he paced in front of the cold fire pit. I stood a bit behind him, shifting uncomfortably as he gathered his thoughts.

"So. Here's the deal. I won't tell anyone about your _issue_ ..." Ganondorf stopped pacing, gesturing to me. "And you do me some little favours, yeah? Sound fair?"

I shook my head and he brought himself up to his full height – and it was terrifying. I took a step back as he took one forward.

"You would rather I tell them?" He smiled, reached into his pocket.

My hand clenched around the mace I'd hidden in my own pocket.

Again, I shook my head. "No." I intended for it to sound strong, but it came out as a whimper. When he uncrossed his arms, I flinched and added, "Be more specific."

"You don't have negotiating power here." His voice was low. Dangerous.

"_Please_." It sounded less sarcastic than I would have liked. I _hated_ that he could reduce me to a frightened puddle like this.

He grinned, but it was humourless. Dark. He took another step forward, so I took another back. "Relax. You're like a frightened little bird." Another step from both of us. His smile faded into a frown. "Seriously, stay still."

I positioned my fingers over the mace. Prepared to spray him as he came too close. His fingers grasped my chin, tilting my face towards his.

"You will do what I say, when I say it." He leaned in, voice lowering to an intimidating growl. "And you won't tell a single soul about it."

It was now or never. I pulled the can of mace out and pressed, aiming for his eyes. It sputtered and died, but not before some of it got in his eyes. Not waiting for that first holler of pain, I turned and bolted. There was shale along the side of the cliff, and I could see a path below us, so I did a baseball slide and rode down the dirt. I was running before I hit solid ground.

Even though I didn't hear him come after me, I kept going. I ran until I was out of the park, hopping onto the first bus I came across. Luckily, my wallet and bus pass were in my back pocket and not in my bag. The bag I'd left in Ganondorf's car.

Great.

My phone went off as I transferred onto a bus that would take me home. I was scared to check what he'd sent me, but I needed to know. My hands trembled as I flipped it open.

[4:41pm] _y wud u do that? maybe ur not so smart afterall_

I let out a breath I didn't know I'd been holding. It didn't sound angry. Maybe I could avoid a fist fight with him for now. About to put the phone away, I got another text.

[4:42pm] _im goin 2 call tonit u better pick up_

My heart sunk. Of _course_ I wouldn't get off the hook that easily.


	8. Chapter 8

I stared at the phone on my bed. I didn't know when it would ring, but it would. Ganondorf had been sending me texts every hour since I'd sprayed him in the face with my decrepit can of mace. Even though I didn't reply to any of them, he kept sending them, each sounding more and more threatening as they went.

If the phone rung, I wasn't sure I would be able to answer it, but it felt like I had to. It buzzed once, then fell silent. Another text.

[8:52pm] _u there? im calling in 5 min_

I laughed, voice trembling. He was giving me fair warning. What the hell was with this guy? First he tries to beat the crap out of me, then he negotiates blackmail, and now he gives me fair warning? I just didn't understand him.

My stomach did flip flops as I waited, counting the minutes, glad that I hadn't eaten all that much for dinner. At almost exactly five minutes past the time stamp, my phone lit up and did its happy jingle for an incoming call. I stared at the display, palms slick. I _could_ just ignore it – but that would only make things worse ... Right?

I decided that I would suck it up and take the call, not wanting to risk having him out me at school the next day. Flipping it open, I hoped that he'd hang up before I got to answering. No such luck. Pressing the little green half-circle, I answered. "Hello?"

There was a lot of noise in the background. Dishes clanging, people talking and yelling over one another. It sounded almost like a restaurant kitchen. "Finally, an answer." There was a bit of a laugh in his voice. The noise dimmed and a door slammed in the background. "I was worried you broke your leg or something when you ran," he chuckled, and I couldn't tell if he was being serious or not.

Talking to him on the phone was much less intimidating. Maybe I could just deal with him like this for the rest of the year? "I'm fine." Guilt stabbed me in the gut. Weakly, I asked in return, "You?"

"Whatever you sprayed was pretty fuckin' weak," his voice cut off, and I heard muffled talking for a moment. When he returned, he sighed. "Still stung like a motherfucker. Look. I'm on a short break and I called to see if you were alright. Why don't you answer my texts, pipsqueak?"

I shrugged, not caring if he could see it or not. "A break?" Maybe I could distract him. My knuckles were white, I was gripping the phone so hard.

"Yeah, I'm working." He paused. When I didn't answer, he added, "So, about those favours."

"No."

"Shut up and listen, you ungrateful little bitch." His voice dropped to a husky whisper. "I'm trying to be _nice_ since you're new around here. You do what I want or I go tell _every_one about you. Maybe even give them a little peekaboo, get it?" When I was stunned into silence, he said smugly, "Good. Now. I want you to tell me what you know about fairy-boy. Especially anything I can use against him."

"I don't ..." Would he really do that to someone? To _me_? "I've only talked to him twice." My voice was soft, squeaky, _scared_. I hated it. "I don't know anything about him."

"Bullshit."

"I'm not lying! I don't know anything about him!" Could he hear my panic? I seemed to be doing that a lot lately. One more thing to hate about myself.

He paused. The door in the background opened, sound flooding through momentarily, slamming shut and cutting off the noise once more. "I'll give you the benefit of the doubt this time, girly. See you at school tomorrow." Then the line went dead.

I stared at my phone for a while. In an odd way, I felt needed. The thought repulsed me.

Why was I so fucked up?


End file.
